


the consequences of being light-fingered

by greenbriars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rey Needs A Hug, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Rey (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbriars/pseuds/greenbriars
Summary: Unfortunately for Rey, the first time she shoplifts, she's caught by the store manager. Who happens to be her new step-father.She finds herself in the unenviable position of bartering with Kylo Ren for his silence.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 120





	the consequences of being light-fingered

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote such a cute reylo fic previously that i decided i needed to balance it out with this shit. i'm sorry to everyone. 
> 
> welcome to the sinners' club. we sin at dawn.

The storage room is dusty and a little stuffy. There's a small window near the top of one wall, cloudy and cracked.

The room is lit by glaring fluorescent lights. Rey feels exposed beneath them.

The door opens and shuts. Heavy footsteps stalk towards her. She stares at her knees.

"What the fuck, Rey?"

She stares harder.

"Look at me."

Sighing, she drags her gaze up.

Kylo Ren stares her down, his coal-black eyes boring into hers. He looks murderous.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He scowls. "Imagine how I felt when they called me back to the store to tell me they had detained a shoplifter. Imagine how I felt when I find out it's my step-daughter."

Rey's lip curls. She never really got used to Kylo; there was always something she found disconcerting about him. It might be his size, or the thin scar that runs down his face.

It's not that Rey doesn't see the appeal. Kylo has thick, dark hair and strong, capable hands and all his teeth. He' handsome, in a brutish, violent way, and a full decade younger than her mother. And he is in possession of a stable income, which is better than most of the thugs her mother has been attracted to. Unfortunately, the income comes from his job as a store manager. A store that Rey just tried to steal from.

"Stand up."

She gets to her feet.

He comes to stand in front of her. He's over a head taller than her, and he looms. Annoyingly. Her fingers clench in the stiff pleats of her school-issued skirt.

They stare at each other down, his livid, hers defiant. She tilts her chin up at him, even though she's quailing on the inside.

She refuses to be cowed by the likes of Kylo Ren.

He reaches out and tugs down one starched collar of her blouse. She startles, jerking away from his touch, but the damage is done.

"That looks familiar," he says, scornfully eyeing the lace bralette. He flicks a finger, and the tags pop out.

He looks disgusted. "For your little boyfriend, I assume," he says, coldly. "Your mother will have to hear about this."

"No." She speaks for the first time. His raises a dark brow. "Please, no."

"Rey, listen. The right thing to do would be to call the cops. Minimally, your mother needs to know."

"Please," she whispers, her voice cracking. "Please, no."

"Rey," he says, sounding almost kind. His eyes are fiery coal pits. "I can't do that."

He takes his phone out.

"Please!" Her voice cracks on that one syllable. Tears spring into her eyes. "I'll do anything."

He stares at her. Something smoulders in his gaze; a banked fire. Calculating.

Then he straightens from where he's been leaning against the table in front of her, and goes to lock the door.

Click.

He saunters the length of the room, easy and leonine, until he's standing at her back.

"Rey, Rey, Rey," he murmurs. Big hands land on her, making her jump.

"Relax. I know what can help."

His hands knead her shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. She's trying not to lock up, but the abrupt turn of events is worrying her.

"Please don't call the cops," she whispers, over and over again. "You can tell mom—" never mind that it'll break her fucking heart, Rey has survived worse— "but please don't get the cops involved."

She closes her eyes, feeling the moisture seep out. She was so determined not to follow in her mother's footsteps. Shouldn't all the months of scavenging and sleeping on park benches have taught her better? Her school will revoke her scholarship for sure, and then where will she be? Her breathing is ragged, and Kylo's hands are surprisingly grounding.

His hands leave her body, and she starts to relax, but all he does is bring his hand up and tuck a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"Okay," he says softly, looking at her with something so close to warmth and sincerity that she automatically responds to it, tipping her face to his like a plant desperate for sunlight. "I won't call the cops."

Relief surges through her like a flood. Her knees go weak. "You won't?" she whispers.

He smiles. "I won't. In exchange for one thing."

"Anything," she promises, like a fool.

"I want you to get on your knees. I'm going to take my cock out, and I want you to suck me off."

All the breath rushes out of her. "What?" she chokes, reeling.

"And then I'm going to fuck you." Said so reasonably, they could be discussing the weather, or the grocery list.

"No!" she exclaims, horrified and repulsed.

"No?" His face shutters. "Alright, then."

He reaches for his pocket. For his phone.

"No, no, wait," she gasps, panicking. Her eyes dart from the phone to the door to the window, then back to him.

No escape.

"I don't have all day, Rey."

She closes her eyes.

It's just one thing. Just sex. She was going to have sex today anyway. It can't be so bad. And these are the consequences of her actions. This is a fair—no, a more than fair—deal.

"Rey."

She'll get to keep her scholarship. She'll get to go to college. She'll get to leave this horrible town.

She gets on her knees, slow because they're knocking together.

"Good girl," he says, approvingly.

There is the clink of a buckle, the metallic drag of a zipper, a rustle of fabric.

Rey takes a deep breath, and thinks about Finn.

Her boyfriend. Her sweet, patient, caring boyfriend. Finn, who without fail keeps a spare jacket for her and who laces their fingers together and makes chicken soup when she's sick. He can never find out about this.

She parts her lips, and a blunt, warm thing brushes against her mouth.

Kylo smells of her mom's laundry detergent, and under that, he smells musky and masculine, a combination of sweat and gunpowder. The head of his cock is slightly wet.

She licks it experimentally.

"Don't be afraid to use your hands," he says, amusement trickling into his voice. It makes her stomach turn.

"I can't do this," she says.

"You can't?" He sounds amused, then he grabs the back of her head. He twists her hair-buns until her mouth opens in protest, then he forces his cock in.

Her lips stretch around him as he drags her forward, as deep as she can take him, then he abruptly releases her.

The message is clear. He wants her to do this of her own free will, for whatever pathetic measure that is.

She's blown Finn before. She knows what to do.

She brings up a hand and spits in it, the sound ugly in the storage room, and wraps it around his shaft, and begins pulling. He exhales.

At the same time, she pulls back so only is into her mouth and starts to suck, applying pressure and tracing the underside with her tongue.

She squeezes the base of his cock, then starts to take more of him in her mouth. God, but he's huge. Thick and girthy and _long_. She felt it when she put her hand on him, and to be honest she was a little intimated. She thought there was no way he'd fit in her mouth. Not on the first try, anyway.

He starts to thrust again into her mouth, shallow little jerks at first. She lets him lead, lets him thread his fingers through her hair and twist. Her mind drifts away from her body. Her mouth is filling up with spit, and she tries to swallow—he makes a bitten-off sound and then shoves his way into the wet hug of her throat.

She chokes.

He levers off so that she can gag around his cock in her mouth and struggle for air.

"There, there, sweetheart," he's saying, voice dark with pleasure. "You can do this."

When the trembling subsides, she sits back on her haunches and looks up at him through blurry eyes. He's smiling, distant and implacable. His erection hasn't flagged one bit.

"Open up," he says, and she does.

She tries to breathe through her nose, careful with rationing her oxygen flow. He takes the lead again, and this time she forces her gag reflex down, forces herself to pay attention when he starts to fuck in her mouth. It's a fast, brutal pace, an insistent thrusting into her helpless mouth. She fights her gag reflex, keeps her eyes closed.

When he finally pulls her off his cock, yanking her back by her hair, she's relieved, flushed and gasping.

He makes a gesture indicating that she should stand, so she does. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, maintaining eye contact with him. It's an action purely borne out of spite, meant to communicate her absolute revulsion.

He chuckles, shucking off his pants, then starts to unbutton her blouse.

She lifts her chin, staring him down. She couldn't be more vulnerable, but she still has her pride.

"These do look very nice on you," he murmurs approvingly. She hates that she responds to it. "Maybe I'll even let you keep them."

He laughs darkly, amused at his joke.

She had chosen a mesh bralette, translucent and delicate, with flowers embroidered on the cups to cover her nipples, smuggled it under her school blouse. It had been too easy to catch her.

Now he presses down on the flowers with broad thumbs, swiping them back and forth.

Her nipples, to her horror, harden.

His mouth widens, his lush, cruel mouth, and he pinches at them through the bra. "Sensitive, aren't we," he croons, repeating the motion. She forces herself to remain still, even though a part of her is tempted to buck into his touch. He reaches behind her.

It takes him exactly one try to unhook the buckle, which is unfair—Finn usually takes four or five, but Kylo makes it looks easy. And then the bralette is sliding down her arms and off her chest.

He palms a small breast appreciatively, humming as he kneads it.

"Very nice," he remarks, like he's surveying fish at the market. Rey screws her eyes shut in disgust. He bends to close his mouth around the little nub, and—

 _God_. She gasps too loudly, freezing up. His mouth is hot and wet, and the sensation makes something zing through her body and settle between her legs. He huffs a laugh, sucking on it roughly and making it go all dark and rosy.

He repeats the treatment with the other breast, suckling and licking until it too has hardened. Rey doesn't understand his interest. Her breasts are apple-sized at best, unimpressive and practically non-existent.

Still, she can't help a sinking feeling when he pulls his mouth off and turns her around, so that her front is against the hard plastic edge of the table. She places her hands on the surface.

He lifts up her school skirt, trailing his hands up the back of thighs before squeezing her ass. He flips the skirt, and—

"Ah, you got the matching set," he observes, voice rich and sinful as dark chocolate. She fists her hands on the table, closing her eyes.

The first smack is not entirely unexpected, but she still jumps about a foot when it lands on her ass. The crack is deafening in the small space.

He rubs his hand up her ass, then slaps her again. This time, his fingers rub up the seam between her legs. She feels wet, and hot all over, shivery like she has the flu. His touch is good, electrifying, makes her instinctively crane towards him.

When she feels him start to tug the underwear down, she closes her eyes and braces herself. This is it.

The first broad swipe of his tongue has her eyes flying open, her mouth shaped around an exclamation.

"What—what are you doing?"

"Just getting you ready for me, don't you worry."

She hates to admit it, it makes her sick to think about it, but his tongue is clever, intuitively licking up her folds the way she likes, finding her core and teasing it. It's hot and wet and makes helpless arousal pool in her stomach, her toes curling. She makes a desperate noise in the back of her throat. His hands spread her apart, and she—god help her, she parts her legs even further to grant him access. He hums, clearly delighted, and the sound travels straight through her. Her head is spinning.

She pushes back against his mouth, and he laughs darkly. "So pretty," he praises, and a sick part of her delights in it. "Such a pretty little slut. You want this, don't you?"

She nearly keens when he stops. Then she remembers herself. She doesn't want this. She doesn't want _him_.

He gets to his feet. She's wet and trembling, and she has to restrain herself from moaning. The thought of Finn flashes through her mind, and she guiltily banishes it. She's only doing what needs to be done.

He situates himself behind her. She can feel his cock brushing against her ass, the backs of her thighs. He's so warm, radiates heat all down her back. He takes himself in hand, lines up to her cunt. She says a mental prayer.

He pushes in.

Oh, God. Oh, _fuck_. He's so big, so hard and thick, and he's just splitting her open. There's no way he'll fit, even with all the lubrication from his spit, she feels like she's being torn apart. She whimpers.

"God, it's even tighter than I thought it would be," he grunts. He flexes his hands on her hips, then tightens his grip.

But he doesn't slow down, not even when she's gasping. Inch by inch, he enters her. Fresh tears collect in the corners of her eyes, and she bows her head.

Somehow, that arches her back, and makes it easy for him to press the rest of the way in. He doesn't relent until he's entirely seated in her, balls-deep.

She sucks in a shaking breath. There's a soft, whining sound coming from a distance. It takes a while before she realizes it's her.

Then he starts to move. He rocks into her at a pace that can almost be described as leisurely, taking his time, savouring the sensations blossoming like little fireworks at every point they contact. He hits a spot in her that makes him hiss. She swears, a curse word that Poe taught her.

He slaps her ass. "Naughty," he says, but it doesn't sound like a bad thing. He groans. Rey keens, a high-pitched, embarrassing sound when his cockhead grazes that particular place in her.

"Let go, little Rey," he purrs. "You like it, don't you? Pretty little whore. You're so perfect for me. You don't know how long I've wanted this, and now you've served yourself up on a platter for me. You're so tight, so fucking wet. My little slut."

She whimpers, gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles go white. He leans over her, slowing down to press his mouth to the nape of her neck. He licks at the juncture where her throat slopes to her shoulder, then bites down.

She yelps; he must have drawn blood. The pace picks up after that, the room filled with the sound of his grunts. His strokes are powerful and generous, and with his hand in her hair he hauls her up so that they're pressed flush, front-to-back and he drives into her with greedy intent.

"What do we say?" he growls, snapping his hips forward. "What we say when we inconvenience somebody?"

"I'm sorry," she pleads. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry who?"

"Sorry," she bites her lip, hard, "daddy."

"Again."

"I'm sorry, daddy."

"Good girl. And?"

"Thank you, daddy," she gasps. He groans, reaches up and squeezes her tits, playing with the sensitive nipples. Tears wet the corners of her eyes.

They're cheek-to-cheek now, a parody of intimacy. He closes a hand around her jugular, laughs with unadulterated glee at the wetness that has trickled down to pool at the base of her throat.

"You're so good for me," he croons, barely panting with the exertion. She feels split apart, sundered; he could have taken a knife to her skin and done less damage. "I bet you're good for your little boyfriend too, huh?"

She chokes. "No."

"No?"

She closes her eyes, admits, "Finn and I—we've never. Today was supposed to be the first time."

His hips still. "You're a virgin?" His voice fills with something complicated, that gives way to an oily pleasure, and he laughs. "Why, _thank_ you, Rey."

He punctuates this with another firm thrust, grinding against her, forcing Rey to bite her lip to stifle her moan. His cock rubs against her walls, deep inside, white-hot and searing. 

He muses, "I wonder how would he feel if he ever found out I fucked you too?"

"You wouldn't," she grits out.

There's a pause. His breath is hot against her cheek, sour and warm and smelling of the Bolivian coffee roast he favors. "I wouldn't," he eventually agrees, stroking the side of her face. Small mercies.

"I'll make it good for you. Just this once, since it's your first time."

He reaches beneath her, his large hand ghosting across her pelvis, then lower. He spreads her folds with one hand, then reaches between them to thumb her clit.

She squeaks; she's always been sensitive there, and tongues are a safer bet to get her to orgasm than fingers. But the roughness of the pad of his thumb perfectly complements his increasingly punishing thrusts, pain mixing with the knife-edge pleasure, rushing her at breakneck speed to the edge of a precipice she's just started to acquaint herself with. Her toes curl, her stomach swoops in anticipation.

"Good girl," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. "Taking me in like that. Such a good girl."

It pools in her belly, coils lower, heat and fear and a desperate pleasure. She tightens around his cock; he surges deep into her, sucking a bruise into her throat; one of his massive hands close around her tit and squeeze.

She tumbles headlong into her climax, as shocking and abrupt as falling out of a plane. Her body spasms around him, and distantly she hears dark laughter, as all her senses are simultaneously overloaded with dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin.

"Good girl," he whispers, holding her impossibly closer. "Now it's my turn."

And his hips slam forward, strokes growing erratic and wild, all the barely-restrained power finally unleashed. It hurts, to be taken with so much force, but she's loose and loopy from her orgasm—so out of it she almost misses it when he says, "I'm going to cum in you."

"Nono _no_ ," she gasps, trying to claw her way out of his grasp, but his arms are easily the size of her waist, and he holds her tight without flinching, not even when her nails catch on his skin.

He kisses her throat, panting now, grunting with it. "You're so tight, baby," he says, and then he's pushes in _hard_ , grinding in too close for comfort.

And pulls out.

Sticky wetness splashes her ass, the backs of her thighs, her pussy—she's simultaneously cringing and exhaling with relief, shaky with it. He pulled out; no harm done, but it's still intense. His cock pulses against her, buried in her folds, and she can feel every tremor. She shudders with it, squeezing her eyes shut, and thinks of endless starry night skies above rolling dessert plans.

Until he slides back into her cunt, raw and fucked-out.

He exhales, chuckling, leaning his sweaty forehead against her shoulderblade. He's still hard, and he rocks into her lazily, mouthing at her spinal vertebrae.

She screws her eyes shut and thinks about Plan B and teenaged pregnancies and how much of her allowance this is going to eat up.

Not to mention the loss of her hard-won pride.

His cock pulses once, twice, and she feels something gush weakly in her. Fuck. She moans weakly, feels filthy and ill and disgusted; disgusting. She's sticky with sweat and dirt from the storeroom and Kylo is no better, pressed against her back.

They stay like this for a while, locked together, until she finally decides she's had enough and shoves him off.

He laughs, cruel, when he watches her scramble into her clothing, trying to avoid his gaze. Her uniform is rumpled and dusty from being unceremoniously discarded on the floor. She has no choice but to wear the stolen lingerie, and she cringes at the feeling of dripping his semen onto the panties.

"Can I go?" she asks, trying to sound irritated and repulsed, but she suspects she just sounds frightened and small. How was it just two hours ago she was sitting in Algebra II, fighting a losing battle with simultaneous equations? She feels young and stupid and sick to her stomach.

He smiles and nods, waving a distracted hand as he tucks himself back in. He looks flushed with good cheer, and when he presses a kiss to her temple, she can feel how warm he is.

Before she closes the door behind her, he calls out—and she swears she can hear the smile in his voice—, "Tell your mother I'll be home for dinner, won't you?"


End file.
